Tarnished Halo
by EstellaDoreaBlack
Summary: There's more to Angel than anyone knows. And she never had any intention of telling anyone. But one Christmas Eve will change all that. Two-shot but each chapter can stand alone. Rated for mentions of rape.
1. Chapter One: The Truth About Angel

**Tarnished Halo**

**Disclaimer:** If you recognize it, it's not mine.

**This fic is rated T for mentions of rape (nothing graphic, which is why it's not an M). If you don't like it, don't read it.**

_**Chapter One: The Truth About Angel**_

Angel Dumott Schunard watched as Mark and Roger's former-roommate-turned-landlord teased them. It wasn't really a concern of hers; she'd only met these men a few minutes ago. But she hated to see anyone mistreated, and anyway, these were Collins' friends, and that made them her friends.

"Our dream can become a reality!" Benny laughed. "You'll see, boys!" He stepped up to Collins, who turned away. "You'll see, boys." He grabbed Roger's arm, but the rocker pulled away, leaving Benny face to face with Angel.

A second before it happened, Angel realized what Benny was about to do. She could have done any number of things to stop him. A good kick with the heels she was wearing would easily have been enough to make him see the error of his ways, and just moving out of the way would probably have been enough to deter the man, who didn't seem particularly focused on anything. But she couldn't do anything. She was frozen in her seat.

Benny grabbed the edge of her skirt and flipped it up, laughing. The moment of contact was enough to snap her into action, and she jumped to her feet. Benny turned back to Mark, ignoring her. She sank into the chair in front of Collins. He gently rubbed her shoulder, and she leaned into his touch, resisting the urge to reach for his hand. She forced a smile and reached a hand up as if to fix her wig, subtly brushing away the tears that had gathered in her eyes against her will. She would not give this man the satisfaction of seeing her cry. He would not know what power he held over her.

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By the time they'd reached the lot, Angel's mood had improved considerably. The community at Life Support had always been like an anchor for her; that was the reason she went so often and tried to drag everyone she could with her. And Mark's late, bumbling entrance had been good for a laugh, putting the first genuine smile on her face since the incident with Benny. It had been a welcome change from the smiles she'd been forcing for the last hour.

And Collins - dear God, Collins. She'd known the man for a few hours and already she was in love with him. And he felt the same way about her. The few moments they'd been able to steal together, where they had finally confessed their mutual feelings, had been wonderful.

"I do not deserve you, Angel," he had said. But he was wrong. It was her who didn't deserve him. If he knew the truth about her - but no. It might be selfish, but this was one secret she had no intention of ever telling him. She couldn't stand to see his reaction.

"Benjamin Coffin the Third, here?" She heard Collins' incredulous voice, and her bubble popped. Of all the places for Benny to show up, why did it have to be the Life Cafe?

She could tell by the way he behaved that he'd probably forgotten all about the skirt incident. And why shouldn't he? To him, it had been nothing more than a prank, a laugh. He had no way of knowing -

No. She wouldn't go there. She'd find her own way of dealing with this incident. Looking over at Benny, she realized that Mark was making him nervous. If they could amp it up enough, maybe they could get him to leave.

Every word she sang on the table, every move she made, was focused on that sole purpose. And when Benny finally did run out of the cafe, she just barely kept herself from crumbling with relief.

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Collins wasn't sure what had woken him from a sound sleep. He rolled over, reaching for Angel, only to find that she wasn't there. Now that was odd. They'd all been exhausted after the riot, and he hadn't expected anyone to wake before morning.

He noticed a faint light in the hall and stood, pulling his robe on. The light appeared to be emanating from under the bathroom door, and he got a small grin on his face. His worrying seemed ridiculous in hindsight. He should have realized she'd just needed the bathroom.

He turned to head back into the bedroom, but was stopped when he heard a gagging sound from the bathroom. Someone was throwing up.

"Angel?" he called worriedly, hurrying up to the bathroom door. He tried the handle and was relieved beyond words when it turned. He hurried into the bathroom, kneeling beside her.

"I'm okay," she whispered.

"You're sick," he countered, reaching out a gentle hand to touch her face. Her skin was cool under his hand and he sighed with relief.

"I'm fine. It must just be something I ate."

"Baby, I love you, but you're a terrible liar." He laid his hands on her shoulders. "You're trembling. What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," she whispered, trying to keep her tears at bay. "Really."

"I don't believe that. You want some water?"

She nodded and he hurried off to the kitchen. She rested her head in her hands. What could she tell him to make him stop worrying? Collins was right; she was a bad liar at the best of times, and worse when she was upset. But if she told him -

"Here." Collins pressed a glass of water into her hands. She rinsed her mouth and then gulped the rest. He helped her stand and guided her to the bedroom. She was grateful for his arm; she thought her legs might have given out under her otherwise. He sat her down on the bed.

"You want to tell me what this is about?"

"Benny," she choked out, the first coherent thought that came into her mind. "The skirt."

"You still upset about that?" he asked, a little incredulously. "He was just messing with you."

"I know, it's not him, not really, he just -"

"Just what?" Collins prompted.

"Brought back some memories," she said finally, praying he wouldn't press.

But he did. "Memories of what?"

She didn't intend to answer, but a dam fell, and her story tumbled out of her in broken fragments. "I lived on the street...men, saw a drag queen...I was seventeen the first time...they said if I wanted to look like a girl, they'd show me what real men did to girls...six of them, I couldn't get away...dragged me into an abandoned building...beat me...made me do things...did things to me." She drew a deep, shuddering breath. "It was three years before I had enough to get an apartment...so many men...never saw most of them again...didn't know who they were...some came back with friends..." she trailed off, looking into Collins' face. She saw the anger and disgust there, and she knew she'd just lost the best thing that had ever happened to her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, dropping her gaze to the blankets.

"Angel..." Hearing Collins' voice was torture to her.

"Just go, Collins, please. Go now. Don't make me wait. Do this one little thing for me."

"Oh, Angel." His voice was strained, and to her surprise, he sat down in front of her. "I'm not going anywhere. Not now, not ever."

She dared to look up again, and she saw that his eyes were now full of compassion. "You looked so angry...so disgusted."

"You're damned right I'm angry. And disgusted doesn't even begin to describe it." His voice was sharp and yet thick with emotion. "Those bastards better thank whatever god they believe in that you don't know who they are, or I'd kill every single one of them with my bare hands." The next thing Angel knew, she was engulfed in Collins' arms. "No one's ever going to touch you again. I swear that. They'd have to kill me first."

A soft, strangled sob escaped her and she nuzzled her head into his shoulder. Her hands found purchase in his shirt and she clung on as if he was the only solid thing in the world. He pulled her into his lap and rocked her, rubbing her back gently as she lost her battle with the tears that had been threatening all night to spill forth.

"There you go, baby, there you go. Just cry, love. Cry it all out."

Collins' soft words brought down the last of her restraint, and the tears began to fall harder and faster. She let out several long, shuddering wails, muffled by Collins' chest. He embraced her so tightly that he was nearly cutting off her circulation, but she didn't care. She let him hold her, she needed him to hold her.

Collins' own heart was breaking for his Angel. Her whole body shook in his arms with every sob, and he could feel her tears soaking though his shirt. His own tears fell into her hair as he cried for everything the world had put his precious girl through.

Angel cried for two hours, and Collins continued to comfort her, kissing the top of her head and cradling her like a baby, whispering soothing nonsense into her ear. When all the tears had run out, he gently took her chin and lifted her eyes to meet his.

"How do you feel?"

"Relieved," she admitted. "Like I just got rid of a huge weight I didn't know I was carrying."

"You need anything?"

Angel wasn't sure how to respond. She was extremely thirsty after having cried so much, but she didn't want him to let go, even for a second.

"I'll get you something to drink," he offered, as if he'd read her mind. He tried to move away, but she tightened her grip.

"I'll be right back, baby. I promise." He gently disengaged himself from her, all but running to the kitchen and back so he wouldn't leave her alone a moment longer than he absolutely had to. She took the glass and downed it gratefully.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I was so afraid."

"What were you afraid of?" He kept his voice as soft as possible. He didn't want her to get the idea that she was being accused of anything.

"I've never known anyone like you, Collins. I thought once you knew, you would leave me."

In the emotional outpouring that had followed, Collins had forgotten about that part. "Oh, baby. Why would I leave you?"

"I'm - I'm damaged goods, Collins. Used, dirty, tainted."

"Who told you that?" he demanded.

"The first time it happened, I tried to go to the police. They laughed, Collins. Asked what I expected, going around dressed like that, how I could play the innocent victim when I was clearly asking for it." She had no tears left to cry, but her throat tightened almost painfully. "They said it was my fault, and I shouldn't come whining to them. My fault, Collins. I let them do what they did."

"They lied," he said fiercely, pulling her into another hug. "The policemen lied. You were raped." She flinched, and he realized it was the first time either of them had actually said the word. "You were hurt, baby, used in the worst possible way. It wasn't your fault." He repeated the words, knowing she needed to hear them. "It wasn't your fault. You are beautiful, Angel Dumott Schunard, and you are perfect. Don't ever let anyone tell you anything else."

She cracked a tiny smile at these words."I love you, honey."

"I love you too, my Angel." He carefully laid her down and then joined her on the pillows. "Go to sleep. I'll take care of you."

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"Rise and shine, baby."

"Mm." Angel rolled partway over. "M' sleeping."

"If you weren't sleeping, I wouldn't be telling you to wake up," Collins teased. "It's time for breakfast."

Angel opened her eyes and saw Collins standing next to her, carrying a tray. "Breakfast in bed? You shouldn't have."

"Yes, I should have." He placed the tray on the bedside table and kissed her. "It's Christmas. Besides, you need some serious pampering, baby. And I intend to provide it." He lifted a piece of toast from the tray. "Open up."

She giggled and allowed him to feed her her breakfast. "What did I do to deserve you?"

"Baby, I've asked myself that a million times since yesterday. You are the most wonderful, loving person I've ever met. You took a stranger into your house - a strange man, no less, and after everything that had happened to you. Weren't you scared at all?"

"Of course I was," she admitted. "But I could tell you'd been beaten up, and I can't stand to see anyone in pain. I've dealt with it myself too many times."

"What made you trust me?" he asked.

"When you saw me in drag for the first time, you told me I was beautiful. And not in a twisted, perverted way. Just beautiful. And I knew you meant it."

"Angel, my Angel..." He'd had no idea what that simple compliment had meant to her.

"Before I knew it, I was falling in love with you."

"I fell in love with you the first moment I met you." He leaned forward and kissed her. What was left of her breakfast lay forgotten. "So answer me. What did I do to deserve you?"

"You just said it," she replied. "You loved me."

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"Where is she?" Collins wondered aloud. Angel should have been home two hours ago. He had initially assumed she'd just lost track of time - not an unusual occurrence for Angel by any means - but he had an inexplicable gut feeling that told him that wasn't it. And two hours was a long time, even for Angel.

Grabbing his coat and keys, he hurried out, heading for the corner where Angel usually played. He was hoping he'd see her, that she'd just laugh and make him feel like a fool for worrying so much. But his concerns were realized when he approached the corner and saw the plastic pickle tub lying overturned. She was nowhere in sight.

"Angel!" He hurried to the tub as if it might grow lips and tell him where she was. But it lay cold, unmoving. "Angel!"

He was going to rush over to the pay phone when he heard a soft whimper from behind a Dumpster. It could have been anyone. It could have even been an animal. But in the same way he had known that Angel's failure to arrive had been a sign of trouble, he knew what he would find there.

She was crying, covered in blood, curled in a tight ball, her clothes torn to shreds. Collins felt sick just looking at her. He had promised no one would touch her. He had failed her horribly, and this was the result.

"Angel?" He called her name softly, but she didn't respond. Collins realized that, in her distress, she probably hadn't even heard him. He dropped to his knees, reaching out a hand to touch her arm.

"No," she whispered, and it tore at his heart. "No more. Please, no more."

"Angel..." He swallowed hard, forcing his voice to work. "It's me, baby. It's me."

That time, she heard him. Her eyes snapped up to fix on his face. "C-Collins?"

"That's right. I'm here."

"Collins, I -"

"Shh. You don't have to talk about it right now." He stripped his coat off and moved to wrap it around her, but she pushed him away.

"Your good coat - you'll get it dirty."

Collins wanted to cry. Even now, when she was in so much pain, she was thinking of others first. "I don't give a damn about the coat. You need it." He slid it around her again, and this time she let him.

"Come on. I'm taking you home." He helped her to stand shakily and supported her on the walk back to the apartment. It would have been faster and easier on her for him to just carry her, but he knew she needed this tiny bit of dignity. The moment the apartment door was closed, she sagged to the floor, letting Collins' coat fall off her shoulders.

"Collins..." she moaned.

"I'm here, baby," he assured her.

She could barely get her voice to work. "I'm going to throw up."

Instantly, Collins was at her side, pulling her to her feet and helping her lean over the sink. He rubbed her back comfortingly as she emptied her stomach.

"M' sorry," she whispered.

"Don't you dare apologize," he said fiercely. "You have nothing to apologize for. You finished?"

She nodded. Collins pressed a glass against her bruised lips, and she took a small sip, rinsing out her mouth. The feel of the liquid in her mouth made her want to throw up again, and she might have if she'd had anything left in her stomach. It was too much like when they had - no, she wouldn't go there, she couldn't.

"I need a shower." It was the first coherent thought out of her mouth.

Collins just nodded, not sure what to say and not sure if he could say anything without bursting into tears. He picked her up and carried her into the bathroom. As carefully as he could, he removed the remains of her clothing and then quickly undressed himself, helped her into the shower, and started the water.

She stood motionless, every shred of her energy going to keeping the memories from overwhelming her. His strong hands washed her wounds, and she let him. He was probably the only person she would have allowed to touch her at this point. The water ran pink, and she shut her eyes, not able to stand even that small reminder of the condition she was in. She flinched hard when he tried to clean between her legs.

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, and she nodded. She knew what he had been trying to do, she just couldn't stand to be touched there.

Collins shut the water off and carried her to bed. He dressed her in a soft nightgown and helped her lie down.

"Stay with me?" She hated how weak she sounded, but she couldn't bear to be left alone.

"Always, baby." He kissed her head. "Try to get some sleep."

"I don't want to sleep."

"I know. But you're exhausted."

"I can't. Not yet. Hold me?"

Collins pulled her into a loving embrace, letting her rest against him. He could feel the tremors running through her body. Her shoulders hitched, and she began to cry again.

"Just hold onto me," he whispered. He desperately wanted to apologize for letting this happen, but he knew it wasn't the right time for that. He let her sob herself to sleep in his arms.

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Angel woke, momentarily disoriented. She couldn't remember much of what had happened the day before. She wondered why she hurt so much.

Then, in a flash, she remembered what had happened, and immediately wished she hadn't. She drew her knees to her chest, trying not to burst into tears again.

Collins quickly stood up from the chair in the corner - Angel hadn't even realized he was there - and hurried over to her.

"What time is it?" she whispered in a halfhearted attempt at normal conversation.

"About ten."

"Shouldn't you be at work?"

"I called in sick. I fully intend to spend today taking care of you." He sat down next to her and kissed the top of her head. "You feeling any better?"

"A tiny bit."

"Are you up to some breakfast?"

"I'll try."

He gave her an understanding smile. "I'd offer to bring it to you in here, but I know you'd rather stay with me." She nodded once in agreement. "Why don't you get dressed?"

With his help, she slipped into a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. She rarely dressed so casually unless she was sick, but she didn't feel up to wearing anything else today. She followed Collins into the kitchen and sat silently at the table as he cooked.

Angel was able to get down the waffle he'd made for her, despite her lack of appetite. But she took one tiny sip of the orange juice and, like the night before, immediately thought she would throw up. As it was, she had to spit it out. She knew she would have thrown up if she'd tried to swallow it.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"No, baby," he responded, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I broke my promise." He took her into his arms, no longer able to stop his tears. "I'm so sorry, baby. I should have protected you."

She gave him a light kiss. "Oh, Collins. It wasn't your fault. You saved me."

"I was too late to save you."

"Says you." She tried to smile but only got about halfway there. "You have no idea how good it felt to see you there, and to have you taking care of me."

"I'll keep taking care of you," he promised, lifting her up and carrying her back to bed.

**This entire story came out of a moment in the filmed final Broadway production, namely the skirt incident I mentioned right at the beginning. It was supposed to be a oneshot, but the plot bunny got so out of control I had to split it in half. I created Angel's responses from several stories, namely ScarletLycan's**_** Porcelain Masks **_**(on my favorite stories page) and Snicker Puff's **_**Untitled**_** and **_**Down Once More**_**, mixed with a little research.**

**The title was inspired by Shawn Mullins' song _The Ghost of Johnny Cash._ It seemed to fit: Angel feels like she's imperfect, and now it's up to Collins to convince her otherwise.  
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**Please Review.  
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	2. Chapter Two: Goodbye Love

**Tarnished Halo**

**Disclaimer:** If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Two: Goodbye Love  
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The first thing Collins noticed when he woke was how hot he was. He glanced across the room at the window. It was open. It had been unusually cool for July the last few days. But there was something hot touching him, lying across his chest -

"Angel," he breathed, fully awake at once. He reached down and touched her head. She was running a fever. He quickly sat up, dislodging his sleeping lover.

"What time is it?" she mumbled, coming partially to wakefulness.

"It's only about three."

"I don't feel good," she moaned.

"I don't doubt it. You're burning up."

"I'm freezing," she protested.

In seconds, Collins had pulled her sweats out of the closet and was helping her dress. "Can I get you anything else?"

"Just let me sleep?"

"Okay, baby." He hugged her close. "Sleep."

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By the end of the week, it was clear to both of them that something was very wrong. Angel had been feeling too miserable to do anything but rest, but she wasn't getting better. She was getting sicker. Collins had finally put his foot down and insisted she see a doctor.

"What is it?" A horrible dread filled Collins when he saw her face as she emerged into the waiting room.

"I-" she choked. "I have the flu."

Collins was too stunned to reply. He finally got over his shock enough to open his arms to her. She tumbled into them.

"I'm going to keep fighting, baby. You know that."

"I know it," he reassured her. "Let's get you home."

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"Where are they?" Maureen whined impatiently. "I want to eat!"

"Shut up," Joanne answered irritably. They might have kept hanging out with the same crowd, but that didn't mean the former couple actually got along.

"I'm sure they're coming soon," Mark answered, trying to defuse the argument. "It's Collins and Angel, after all. God knows what's keeping them."

Joanne's phone rang, and she grabbed it. "Hey - Collins? Where are you? What? Why not? Oh, I see. What's wrong?" Her eyes went wide with shock. "Oh, my God. I'm so - No, don't worry about them. I'll tell them. I'll talk to you soon."

"What's keeping them?" Mimi asked as the lawyer hung up.

"It's Angel," she said soberly. "She's sick."

The word "sick" could have meant a million things, but the way Joanne said it, coupled with what they'd heard of the phone conversation, told them it was big.

"How sick?" Mimi finally asked.

"She has the flu."

The bohemians' eyes grew wide. They were too familiar with AIDS to be ignorant of the implications. She was dying.

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"What's the date?" Angel asked weakly, forcing herself to speak. She spent so much time sleeping that it was easy to lose track of time.

"October 27th," he answered. "How do you feel?"

"I'm tired."

"Go back to sleep. We can talk when you wake up."

She'd never needed convincing before, but this time she shook her head. "No. I can't. I won't."

"You won't what?"

"If I go to sleep, I won't wake up."

"Don't talk like that."

"It's true. Collins, I'm scared," she admitted.

"Come here." He pulled her into his arms. "I'm here, baby. I won't leave you."

"You're the most wonderful man I've ever known."

"And you're the most wonderful, most beautiful, most perfect woman on the face of the planet," he replied. And in that moment, she believed him. She believed what she had never been able to. She was perfect.

"I love you," she whispered.

"And I love you, baby. I always will."

"Go to sleep, Angel." It was the hardest thing he'd ever said, but he could tell how much pain she was in.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Let go, baby. Just let go."

"One more thing?"

"Anything."

"Kiss me."

Collins bent down and pressed his lips to hers. He feasted on her mouth, knowing he'd never get this chance again. She clung to him as tightly as he did to her.

"I love you," she whispered. "I love you so much. I'm so sorry, honey."

"Don't be. Angel, you are the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. Never doubt that for a second, baby. Not for a second."

She smiled weakly and closed her eyes, no longer able to keep them open. She drew a slow, labored breath, and then another. For five minutes, she breathed. Then she let out one breath and did not draw another. Collins pressed his fingers to her neck, feeling the last few beats of her heart before it too gave out.

He let out a long, agonized wail and pulled her close. He rocked her in his arms until the nurses came to take the body to the morgue. Then, shaking, he put a coin into the phone and dialed the only number he could remember - the number for the loft that had once been his.

"SPEAK!" The machine intoned.

"Roger - Mark - someone, please, pick up the phone."

"Collins?" The filmmaker's voice came through the receiver. "What's up?"

Collins tried and failed several times to say the words. Finally, he managed to force just two words through his lips. "It's over."

xxxxxxxxx

Collins hadn't listened much to the priest's speech. It was clear the man had never known Angel and was just making a rote speech. But his friends' memories were different.

"I knew we'd hit it off the moment we met," Mimi related. "That skinhead was bothering her... and she said she was more of a man than he'd ever be - and more of a woman than he'd ever get."

Silently, Collins applauded her bravery. Mimi would have had no way to know how much that incident would have terrified Angel.

Mark related another story through tears, but it was Maureen that really got to him. "You always said how lucky you were that we were all friends. But it was us, baby, who were the lucky ones."

But Angel would have disagreed. Thrown onto the street at seventeen, abused for years - he knew the unconditional friendship of the people around him had seemed like nothing short of a miracle for her.

But now it was his turn, and he had no idea what to say. And when he finally opened his mouth, it was not speech that came out, but a song they had used to sing to each other.

"Live in my house - I'll be your shelter. Just pay me back with one thousand kisses..."

xxxxxxxxx

"Merry Christmas, baby," Collins whispered. There wasn't much there to talk to; the grave was still too new to have a headstone.

"I got your message," he added. For Mimi had taken him aside the previous night and conveyed an additional message.

"Angel said to tell you she loves you," she had said. "And she'll be waiting for you."

"I love you," he said softly. "And I miss you so much." But with the previous nights events, his pain had dulled from a stabbing agony to a deep, longing ache. Angel was safe and happy, and Collins knew he could go on living knowing that. And he knew that when it was his time, he would go willingly, because she would be waiting.

**Please Review. I got some rave reviews for my first chapter, and I hope this one lived up to expectations.**


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